


Sugared Almonds

by Crimsonchords



Category: End Roll (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 20:43:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17210612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crimsonchords/pseuds/Crimsonchords
Summary: For Mireille life is mostly bitter, but sometimes there are small drops of sweetness. Is this really the only life there is?





	Sugared Almonds

 

Love is a precarious thing, sometimes its makes the heart swell and flutter, other times is becomes the most bitter pill one must swallow. Mireille thinks this as she prepares the medication to take to her patient’s bedside, he’s getting weaker and weaker and its all the more painful after the endless hours Mireille spends talking to him and getting to know what a charming and charismatic man he is. In her eyes his deteriorating health doesn’t define him, and the lines of age on his face simply tell many wonderful stories that she is awe-stricken by. It’s obvious she’s in love and she knows it.

“Good morning, Saxon.” She offers a gentle smile as she steps into her patient’s room and sets the pills down on one side. “Let’s open up the windows and let a little fresh air and light in.” She knows this moment alone with him is fleeting, and in just a few hours it will be visitor’s time, and the seat by his bedside will be occupied by his wife.

The day rushes by, and try as she might to spend all of her working day with Saxon she has other patients to tend to as well, now that Saxon’s wife if here Mireille takes the opportunity to leave – it’s too painful to watch them.

“Oh-!” As she heads out the door the nurse bumps into someone and takes a step back to inspect who it is.

“Father! I’m so sorry.” She apologises, she knows Dogma only as an acquaintance and as a regular visitor to the ward, though he’s rarely here on joyful errands. Mireille knows him as the Priest that regularly visits the hospital to deliver sacraments to those on her deathbed. Its unsurprising that to some people his robes of black flow through the hallways like the reaper himself, but to the patient’s his faith offers comfort and light. Mireille doesn’t know where she stands with it, she isn’t sure if faith can comfort her woes. However, it’s not always doom and gloom that Dogma brings, sometimes he will arrange for carols to be sung at the Hospital around Christmas, and it really does give a glowing warmth to the hospital that’s wonderful to watch.  

 “It’s quite alright, I’m sure you’re very busy.”

“Ah, yes.” She nods, still apologetically. “Who are you here to see today?” She tries to make conversation, but the serious and unwavering look in his eyes is almost a little intimidating and she cannot help but wilt slightly in his presence.  

Dogma explains who he is here to see and makes some pleasantries with Mireille as usual before heading on his way again, and she watches through emerald eyes the robes move through the hallways once more, to claim a life or to guide them to heaven – she supposes it’s not her judgement to make.

 The weeks and months progress. Mireille notices Saxon’s condition getting worse and worse, to the point where he is reliant on Mireille for almost everything. She bathes him, she feeds him and clothes him, and in those moments Mireille can indulge in the feeling of Saxon needing her, and in her mind pretend that she is his wife. Yet his eyes never light up for her, and it hits her so painfully every time they do when his wife comes to visit. She feels abandoned, afraid that one day she may no longer be needed by him.

She is aghast when a few weeks later the family all come to visit, with Dogma in tow.

“F-Father?” She asks, eyes trembling with fright as the Priest confirms her worst fears. Of course, the family have asked that Dogma deliver his sacraments to Saxon, and the news is like a knife to her chest, especially when she has no choice but to remain professional, try and hide the glassy yet listlessness of her eyes and nod. The family don’t notice her heartache, but Dogma does, though at that moment it’s still unbeknownst to her and she is spared any embarrassment.

For Mireille her hopes are shattered, her daydreams of settling in a rural cottage with Saxon, bringing him his morning paper and sharing afternoon tea will never come to fruition, and as Dogma puts prayers into softly spoken words she is left outside in the hallway only to watch, abandoned as her worst fears come to light.

She watches the wife cupping Saxon’s hand, she watches the tears fall down the cheeks of his sons, but it should be Mireille! Those should be her tears spotting onto the hospital linen. Don’t they see how much she is hurting?! Wont they let her grieve for the man SHE loves?! She feels sick in her stomach from the grief and jealousy, and watches the clock for when the family are due to leave.

A few hours later Mireille is busy with another patient, but her gentle smile is worn down to a grey and sombre expression, and she’s so adrift in her own misery that she doesn’t hear Dogma approach.

“Mireille….isn’t it?” He asks, and she turns suddenly, somewhat off guard. “May I speak with you in private?”

It catches the nurse off guard, but once over the initial shock she nods silently, and after helping her patient she walks with Dogma to the end of the ward.

“Is there something I can help you with?” She asks rather meekly.

“Actually, It is I who would like to help you.”

She shakes her head. “I’m sorry father, I…I’m not quite sure I understand.” Either that or she is too adrift in her woes and too tired to listen.

“I can tell you’re upset about one of your patient’s conditions, I’ve noticed he’s been on this ward for quite some time, it’s natural that you’ve grown attached to him.”

Mireille’s eyes widened, not sure of how to react to Dogma’s statement, was he going to scold her? Call her a sinner? Her lips parted but she didn’t know what to say until Dogma spoke again.

“I commend your work, it must be awfully hard for you…”

She lowered her head, tears threatening to spill. “Fa-father…..I….he is….” The love of her life? No, she couldn’t tell him that! Suddenly a warm hand cupped her shoulder and she looked back up with surprise.

“You have been there for him and the rest of your patients through the toughest of times, I can see that you’re suffering too. You’re clearly exhausted.”

“Y-yes…” She wiped a hand over her eyes, trying her best not to cry. “Seeing his condition worsen…I feel at a loss…” What could she do? She couldn’t grieve the way she wanted to.

Dogma took his hand away, and began to scribble down a note before passing it to Mireille. She took it through slight confusion before looking back up at Dogma.

“This is the address of my church.” He explained. “It is far more than a place of worship, It is a community, and I hope it is a place that offers comfort in the darkest times, so should you ever need someone to talk to or a place to collect your thoughts, the door is always open.”

Mireille clutched the note to her chest, nodding as tears bloomed in the corners of her eyes and attached to her eyelashes. “T-thank you father, this means a lot to me.”

He cleared his throat slightly before continuing. “Yes, well… you know where I am now, and know that the Lord is always looking over you.” With that Dogma turned on his heel to leave, and this time when Mireille saw those robes of black, she saw them for the hope and comfort they brought, and not the reaper.

“Oh, and one more thing. Please rest. You will be of no use to your patients if you do not sleep.”

She blinked languidly, only realising just how long ago her shift ended, but she was determined to stay longer, just until Saxon’s family left so she could spend more time with him. She nodded silently to Dogma before he left.

A as soon as he was gone her eyes darted back to the clock, visiting hours were over, and with that she rushed back to Saxon’s side.

He was asleep, and as she disregarded Dogma’s advice and covered the very quiet night shift she sat with him for hours and hours, just hearing his breathing was heavenly, even if it was shallow. Yes, this felt right. Just him and her together, Mireille even mustered her courage enough to clasp his hand, gently enough as to not wake him, but firmly enough to feel the callouses on his fingers and wonder what experiences had put those there.

“Oh, Saxon…” She muttered. “This is right, isn’t it? Just me and you…this is how it should be, until the very end.” Her emerald eyes scanned over his sleeping frame and to his bedside and the medicine next to it, ill-thoughts creeping through her mind…

Maybe she could be the one to be with him until the very end.

=

Saxon’s last moments had been the most precious and most memorable of Mireille’s life, especially since it had just been the two of them, no wife, no children, no doctors, other nurses or Priests…it was just him, her, and the overdose of medicine.

She had done the right thing, hadn’t she? Saxon’s wife had the best years of Saxon’s life with him, so why not have those last moments for herself?

Mireille briefly saw Saxon’s family as she left the hospital, their eyes were red and sore from crying. As she made her way out of the building she began to feel just how tired she really was, it was already early morning, she ought to sleep but she felt something else call to her….

Before she knew it Mireille’s shoes were off, and she was slowly treading through sand. The hospital wasn’t far from the beach, and the nurse simply followed her instinct. She wanted to see the sun rise just whilst there was no one else around, she would watch the sky in hopes that maybe some stars might still be in sight and wonder which one she would declare as Saxon’s.  Her eyes scanned a few rocky ledges around the beach, and something inside her called to her to climb them. She left her shoes at the bottom and followed instinct, climbing up some of the rocks, closer to God, closer to the stars, to her love.

And then as she made it onto a ledge level enough for her to stand, a voice called to her.

“Mireille!”

_Saxon?_

“Mireille!!” It called again and she turned, onto to see Dogma running towards the beach.

“What are you doing up there?!” He seemed annoyed, and the wilting flower of her being returned.

“D-Dogma! I, I mean father…I was just…” What was she doing? Standing bare foot on some rocks watching the waves lash against the shore at 5.30 in the morning? It did look a bit odd…

“I like to come here after work…the waves are relaxing…” It was sort of true, they _were_ relaxing. “What are you doing up so early? O-out here?”

“Never mind that! What do you mean after work, are you telling me you only just finished?!” Dogma scolded again before running onto the sand and by the rocks Mireille stood upon, holding out a hand.

“Come down from there, it’s dangerous.” The stern look in his eyes told her he wasn’t taking no for an answer, and she relented. Taking his hand she hopped down from the rocks, thanking him before sitting in the sand and staring out in a daze at the ocean. The behaviour certainly took Dogma by surprise and worried him terribly, she looked so exhausted, physically and emotionally. His brows arced with concern, before he decided the only thing to do would be to sit down beside her, trying to ignore what a pain it would be to get the sand from off his attire.

“You ignored my advice.” He said bluntly, not looking at her. “How long was your shift?”

“…………” For a long time she said nothing, only the waves made any noise. Finally, she spoke.

“12 hours?” It was definitely more “I think, I’m not sure. It was so lovely, father. Saxon and I had a wonderful time…”

Dogma looked across again, eyes widening when he saw tears make their way down the nurse’s cheek. Something didn’t rest well with Dogma at that moment, and he got the suspicion something had happened.

“..! Saxon…is he…”

“He is deteriorating quickly.” She cut him off before he could press for the truth. She couldn’t quite admit it yet. “Father, have you ever been in love?” Before he could enquire she’d completely thrown him off guard with that question. He tried to regain his composure before answering.

“I…no. I haven’t.” His expression softens ever so slightly. Dogma may have never had such an experience before, but even he can see the heartache radiating from Mireille.

“Oh, but I suppose it’s different for you, isn’t it?” She enquires, though she feels rude to pry her brain is desperate to veer away from her own pain, to speak of anything else besides it – and curiosity bites. “I heard that Priests can’t get married, is that true? Do you ever feel alone?”

A small huff, that could almost be distinguished as laughter hums through Dogma’s lips as he idly watches the waves caress the shore.

“There are some very rare exceptions made but for the most part you’re right, although you can get married then become a Priest, once you’re a Priest you cannot then get married. So I will never be married.” Not to another person anyway. “But you could say I’m married to the church.”

“Oh…I had no idea. So then, you chose not to wait until you met someone?” She tilts her head slightly, her gaze glued to Dogma with innocent fascination.

“I have always had the desire to become a Priest, it hadn’t even occurred to me to wait for something that I may never even want or find.” He glances over at Mireille as she digests his words “In heaven we are all unmarried and unbound from one another, there can be no benefit of me dedicating myself to one person in this life when there is an entire community that I have sworn to guide.”

Mireille feels particularly struck by this, a stab of guilt settles in her chest thinking of all the patients she may have overlooked in favour of Saxon. But she can’t help that, that’s what love- _being in love_ does – she reminds herself. She can’t be so black and white as Dogma is, she doesn’t know whether to be in awe of his strong will, or pity him, if that strong will never allow him to feel that soul-consuming type of love for another person. Surely he must get those feelings, no one can completely block that part of themselves off, right?

“But I certainly do feel alone sometimes, even in a Church full of people it’s easy to feel alone. Especially when you’ve lost someone dear to you.”

Mireille eyes widened, realising how far her judgement may have been from the truth, that Dogma didn’t shut off his feelings at all, if he too had lost someone he loved. Maybe not someone he was _in_ love with, but loved nonetheless. He understood that sort of pain. She was just so consumed in her romantic adoration's, and so cut off from her family that she almost forgot how love can bloom even stronger in other ways. She idly wondered who he’s lost, a sibling? A parent perhaps? Before she could dwell further Dogma’s voice cut her form her thoughts.

“It’s very easy to get caught up in our own grief and loneliness that we no longer think about those around us, or even ourselves. But as hard as it might be you must.” He looks at Mireille with serious, hardened features.

“Your love for him is admirable, but you must not forget to take care of yourself in the midst of it. Otherwise not only you, but those who care about you will suffer too, not to mention your other patients.”

She can feel the warm sting of tears clouding her vision once again, she wipes her eyes with her sleeve, chest heaving so slightly _. ‘He’s dead! He’s dead!’_ she wanted to scream and cry, but she can’t.

“Heh…It sounds so simple, yet it’s so difficult. I’m afraid there’s no one to worry about me, I don’t speak to my family, and there are plenty of other nurses much more qualified than me.” _‘It almost seems pointless for me to carry on…’_

 

_‘I’m a bad person. I did a bad thing. I cannot be trusted to be loved. I am better alone, or better becoming nothingness, joining him.’_

 

“Mireille.” His strong, resolute voice draws her from her weakness and toward his strength. She slowly lifts her head.

“ _You_ are left to worry about you. And… I am also here for you.” He hesitates, feeling a little awkward just saying the last bit since the two barely knew each other. He coughs to clear his throat. “If anything it’s only more reason for you to come to Church, there is a community there waiting to welcome you.”

She smiles so softly that it appears to catch Dogma off guard.

“Thank you, Dogma.” She speaks softly. “I think I’d like come to church one day.” Dogma’s voice is mellifluous and calming, she can imagine listening to him recite prayers would be therapeutic in a way.

The conversation simmers out, and the two simply sit in the sand, watching the waves for what feels like hours. Every so often Dogma will pipe up, telling Mireille it’s probably best she go home and rest, but it’s met with ‘just a few more minutes’ each time, and each time Dogma relents. However, her eyelids are beginning to feel extremely heavy.

“Dogma?”

“Yes?”

“Tell me about the things you like. Apart from Church.”

The request throws Dogma off guard, he’s not entirely sure how to respond except defensively.

“Why?”

“Just…because.”

The only person she’d centred her attentions on had been Saxon for years, it would be nice to get to know someone else. Looking up at Dogma, it felt like he’d be a good start. “Please.”

Closing his eyes Dogma knows he’s beat. He can’t say no when someone shows such vulnerability.

“Fine. I like sugared almonds, and-”

This elicits a gentle chuckle from Mireille, enough to cut Dogma off. “Sugared almonds?”

“Yes, do I not look the type to have a sweet tooth?” He enquires, raising a brow which only makes her chuckle more.

“Oh, no, no…I don’t know why that made me laugh. I suppose I just never thought of you liking normal things.” The reaper who glides through the hospital corridors likes sugared almonds, who would’ve known.  She suddenly realises how offensive that may have sounded and is about to apologise, but the look on Dogma’s face tells her there’s no need.

Mireille silently rubs her arms as the morning breeze takes hold. Before she can say anything the Priest unclasps his robes and drapes them over her shoulders before she can protest. Now she adorns the cloak of the grim reaper himself, how fitting it seems.

Any ounce of Mireille’s leftover pleasantry slips, and she ends up slouched against Dogma’s side, closing her eyes and drifting off until the tear stains on her cheeks dry.

When she reawakens Dogma is still there right beside her, his side still makes a firm and comfortable rest. This time when he tells her she needs to go home and sleep she agrees with no resistance. The robes keep her warm until Dogma has walked her to her door and said goodbye. He’s already gone by the time she speaks.

“Thank you…”

 

=

 

A few days roll by, a sea of shifts in sterile hallways and hospital rooms. Mireille has just finished her night shift when she slips on her coat and tucks her hands into her pockets, she feels a crumpled piece of paper.

Oh, the Church….

Perhaps she should go visit, confess her sins even…

The sounds of waves washing the shore enter her mind. She smells sandalwood, Dogma’s robes…Remembering this Mireille is suddenly making a determined beeline towards the sweet shop in the village.

Mireille makes it to church just in time for Sunday Morning Mass, the building stands proudly on its own, with beautiful stain glass windows and a cobbled path that leads to the entrance, she watches as a few other people make their way inside. Threading her fingers through her hair she tries to tidy up her appearance which is no doubt haggard by the long night shift and abundance of grief since her last moments with Saxon before she enters the church.

Upon first entering she feels a flood of guilt and the heavy burden of sin from what she had done only a few evenings ago, but when her eyes catch Dogma at the top of the church’s aisle she feels somewhat more comforted, and from the small blink of surprise and little nod it’s obvious he recognises her and is pleasantly surprised to see her here. They don’t have a chance to converse before the sermon begins so she moves to a pew next to a friendly-looking elderly woman, and for an hour or so Mireille loses herself in the calming melody of church hymns and the radiance of the high ceilings. She also finds Dogma’s voice very soothing as he preaches, and she allows herself to forget the magnitude of her guilt, and basks in the bittersweet final moments she spent with Saxon.

After the sermon Mireille ponders on whether or not she should leave without a word whilst nervously fondling the little bag of sugared almonds in her pocket, but Dogma finds her before she is able to do so.

“Mireille, did you come here straight from work?” He almost sounds like he’s scolding her (and no, she hadn’t –she’d been to the sweet shop too), and her shoulders hunch ever so slightly. He sighs. “Well, it’s good to see you here although you really must rest, how is-”

“He’s dead.” She says before Dogma can even finish his sentence, and it clearly knocks the air right out of his lungs. She should’ve told him at the beach, saved this awkward silence from filling their lungs. But she’s proud of herself, she doesn’t burst into tears or falter in her stance, just…smiles with bitter sweetness at Dogma.

“Oh…I’m very sorry to hear that.” Dogma lowers his head slightly, “What an awful time it must be for you, may he rest in peace.” She nods as Dogma ponders.

“Would you like to stay a little longer? Perhaps we can offer him a prayer together.” Dogma offers, but she shakes her head.

“N-no, it’s quite alright father…thank you though.” She contemplates confession, but truth be told she thinks although Dogma is a little intimidating he is also very kind, and she’s scared he may hate her if he heard her confession. “Your sermon was wonderful though, I’d like to come back next week…” Maybe by then she will feel ready.

“Of course.” He nods, “For now though please take care of yourself and rest, you have other patients who need you after all.”

“Y-Yes…I suppose you’re right.” But as awful as it sounded she really didn’t care about them, with Saxon gone, there was very little left to care about, try as she might to find something. She bowed ever so slightly. “Take care father.”

“And you as well.” 

She left feeling less lethargic but still with a heavy weight on her heart. She would go back next week, and she would confess to her sins, start afresh and try to build a new life…

“Oh! Dogma, wait!” She even catches herself off guard saying his name instead of Father so loud in front of the congregation, causing a few people to turn around. She blushes with slight embarrassment before offering out the small parcel of sugar almonds wrapped neatly with a bow.

“Thank you for the other day… these are for you.”

He blinks back his surprise, slowly taking the offering of treats. His cheeks appear more rosy in colour as he speaks.

“You really didn’t need to get me anything.” He smiles. “But thank you, it’s very kind of you.”

A final smile is exchanged before they part ways. Mireille thinks she’ll definitely return to Church.

=

Fate has other ideas for Mireille though. A chance encounter can change everything.

Sometimes guilt and love can be all too consuming, and Mireille finds herself presented with a choice, perhaps instead of the having to live with this bitter taste in her mouth she could meet Saxon in the next life and they could live happily together. She’d heard it from the preacher’s mouth, that there was a next life in heaven for those who sought God. Well, she had done that hadn’t she? She’d been to Church to be close to the heavenly being himself. All she needed now was to repent for her sins and get rid of her guilt….she just needed a little _push_.

Russell came to the hospital before the next Sunday, Mireille had too much time to let her thoughts fester and decided that she would not be going to church on Sunday after all, she would confess her sins to this little boy instead, she would repent with his hands on her back, repent at the edge of the roof, and repent with her life.

Dogma kept an eye out for her at Church on Sunday, and it was only the following week when he went back to the hospital for another person’s sacraments that another nurse broke the awful news to him.

Dogma would not see her again, at least – not in this life.

....

..

.

..

....

// DREAMWORLD//

 

“Oh, Good afternoon father.” Mireille greeted with a gentle smile as she took a stroll through nameless town, happening to bump into the village pastor along the way.

“Good afternoon Mireille, are you off anywhere nice?” He asked before she offered a sheepish smile in return.

“A-actually I was thinking of going to Gardenia’s restaurant, I’ve heard she’s started making ice-cream and I’d love to try some of it.” Mireille couldn’t deny she had a little bit of a sweet tooth, and before she knew it she was blurting out. “Perhaps you’d like to come with me?” She didn’t know if Dogma even liked that sort of thing, he didn’t seem the sweet-tooth type, however-

“Well, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to try.” He hardly sounded enthused, but Mireille reasoned some company was better than none at all and nodded.

“Great, let’s go then, shall we?” With that the two walked to Gardenia’s restaurant, and…suddenly alone with Dogma she found herself unsure of what to talk about to such a stuffy man, the only time he ever really spoke much was at his sermons, and really that was talking _at_ people, not to them.

Dogma didn’t seem perturbed by the awkward silence, and Mireille was relieved once they made it to the shop and had Gardenia’s chirpy personality to break the ice before they headed to their seats, but before that the pair got a good look at the different flavours of ice cream on display.

“Wow, isn’t gardenia amazing? I could never make so many interesting flavours like that…” Mireille said, idly playing with a lock of hair. “What flavour are you thinking of having?”

“Vanilla.” Dogma said bluntly, causing the maid to blink a little.

“R-really? There are so many choices though….are you sure you just want vanilla?”

Dogma set down his menu with not an ounce of hesitation. “Vanilla is a perfectly good flavour, I doubt Gardenia would make it if it didn’t sell well. People like vanilla.”

Was…Dogma arguing with her? There was something about it that was almost funny, and Mireille began to giggle a little, much to Dogma’s dismay.

“Is something funny?” He asked, making her splutter a little.

“O-oh! No, not at all…” A small bead of sweat rolled down her temple. Eventually she settled on strawberry and peach ice cream, and Dogma stuck to his guns with the vanilla. Eventually Mireille couldn’t help but ask.

“Are you not a fan of sweets, father?”

“On the contrary, I love sweet food.” He said, taking a spoonful of that dreadfully dull ice cream to his lips. She couldn’t help but watch it slightly melt on the spoon before Dogma took it to his lips.

“Really? You…don’t seem the type.” She giggled a little. “What’s your favourite then?”

“Sugared almonds.” He said simply, but it was still enough to pique her interests.

“Why…sugared almonds? N-! Not that there’s anything wrong with those of course.” She nervously took another spoonful of her strawberry and peach.

“Aside from the taste, they remind me of many happy times.”

“Oh?”

“They’re quite a common treat at communions, baptisms, confirmations and weddings. Naturally growing up in the Church I saw many of these ceremonies, and as a child I couldn’t help but find myself picking at the sweets.”

Mireille couldn’t help but giggle a little louder. “So, you stole them? Isn’t that a sin?”

“N-No!” Dogma sputtered, only making the maid smile more. “I most certainly didn’t steal, they were for all of the guests!”

“I’m only teasing you, father…but it’s nice to find out a little more about you and what you like, I supposed I always thought your tastes might be sour..” She looked at his ice cream. “Or bland.”

Dogma clearly wasn’t impressed by this, his eyes narrowing unappreciatively.

“Are you implying that my taste mimic my supposed personality? I’ll have you no I’m not a sour person, nor a bland one.”

“Oh! No! Not at all! Well…” Actually that had been exactly what she’d thought, and now she realised just how awful that sounded. “I’m sorry…I suppose I probably did judge you a little, it’s just that, well, you never smile much, like you have a sour sweet in your mouth, or you’re bored by a bland taste. That sort of expression.” Why was everything suddenly about flavours? Perhaps it was simply easier to talk in that fashion.

“I am a serious man, I’ll give you that…” He said, idly scooping ice cream into his spoon only to drop it and pick up another spoonful. “But I find my life is quite enriched through the Lord, to me there is nothing bland about that, even if that doesn’t sound frightfully exciting.”

“T-that sounds wonderful…actually.” Mireille smiled, though it was laced with some sadness. “Who am I to judge? You do a wonderful job, your sermons really do speak to people, including myself so there is nothing bland about that, it is certainly more exciting than my life…” She drifted off slightly, though all of her daydreams were buzzing with excitement and overflowing with the kind of love that’d sweep her off her feet, the reality was that the only sweeping in her life was sweeping the floor… Dogma quickly caught onto her self-pity and butted in.

“If it’s any consolation, it feels like I spend most of my life just cleaning the church, and yet I still manage to find cobwebs or cant remove the streaky marks off the glass.”

“Oh, you know newspaper and vinegar are great for cleaning glass.” Mireille smiled once more. “Perhaps if you like I could give you a little aid cleaning the church, I certainly know how dreary those tasks can be alone.”

Dogma managed a small smile. “Well, I certainly wouldn’t mind if you wanted to, though I wouldn’t like to take any time away from your work.” Mireille gave a saccharine smile, gently cupping her palms together as she looked at Dogma.

“Father, you do have a lovely smile. You should smile more often.” She hummed. “Perhaps just imagine you’re eating sugared almonds.”

He sat up a little more straight, the smile evaporating and replaced with a small blush. “You make it sound as though I’ve performed some sort of miracle…” He quickly grumbled, did everyone in town really think he was that miserable?!

“I’m sorry Father, I just couldn’t help but notice. Here…” Suddenly Mireille took a big scoop of her strawberry-peach ice cream, only to add it to Dogma’s bowl.

“And what, exactly, are you doing?” He raised a brow, before looking down with suspicious eyes at what was perfectly good vanilla ice-cream, now tarnished.

“I’m adding a little sweetness to your ice-cream, trust me, you’ll like it.” She said softly, Dogma still didn’t look convinced.

“Tell me, since you’re so caught up on my sweet tooth, what’s your favourite sweet?”

“Mine?” She blinked, before looking up to a corner of the room as she pondered. “Well, I love Mille-feuille.”

“You’re joking, surely?”

“No…why?”

“That’s the most boring pudding there is! It’s just vanilla custard and pastry!” Who knew Dogma would spend his afternoon fighting about pudding? He put his spoon down in protest, staring at Mireille with an intent and ready-to-debate game face.

“Well, yes…I suppose it’s a little bland on its own, but still sweet and comforting, just like your vanilla ice cream. But, I like mine with either some strawberry or blueberry compote, not too much so that it’s sickly, but just enough to give it a little sweetness, like my strawberry-peach ice cream.”

“Mille-fueille and blueberry, strawberry and peach, you seem to enjoy your combinations.” Dogma mused.

“Well, variety makes things a little more interesting, though some goods are perfectly good on their own, sometimes they’re made that little extra special with more sweetness. You can’t go wrong with vanilla, but isn’t it nicer to share it with something?” Mireille asked, cupping her face in her hands as she spoke, making Dogma look away slightly.

“I…I suppose that could be said.” He looked down at his ice cream, and now with Mireille’s too he had far too much, so without a word took a scoop of his vanilla and put it in her bowl. When she looked at him with slight surprise he elaborated.

“You said it was more interesting to share, yes?”

“Mn! Yes…” And it was lovely, to share this very simply but wholly enjoyable treat with Dogma, he no longer seemed as cold as the ice-cream, and swept up in further conversation the time seemed to fly until their bowls were empty.

“I feel so full..” Mireille said with a content sigh once she was finished, as satisfying as the sweetness on her tongue was she soon felt lethargic for it, and judging by the look on Dogma’s face he seemed to agree.

“Perhaps we should walk it off.”  He suggested, and Mireille nodded in agreement as they paid up and made their way out of Gardenia’s restaurant.

As they headed out a cool and refreshing breeze hit, Dogma was just planning to follow the usual path around town, but Mireille seemed to have different ideas.

“Where are you going?” He asked, before the maid turned around with a smile.

“Well, I…was thinking a walk near the beach would be nice…the air always feels fresher around the sea, don’t you think?” Oh but, walks along the beach were such a romantic cliché weren’t they? What if Dogma thought she had those sorts of intentions!? She tried to shake the thought and fight off a blush, luckily for her Dogma wasn’t well versed in romantic cliché and took no mind of it, instead he simply turned to her with a nod.

“Yes, I suppose that does sound nice….let’s go then, shall we?”

With that Dogma had already walked on, beginning to make his way to the beach, whilst Mireille stood there stunned for a moment, wondering if Dogma really knew nothing about that sort of thing, was he just that focused on his commitment to God? She shelved the thought for now to catch up with the Priest, the walk there was uneventful and quiet, though out in the open with Dogma watching the nature through her peripheral vision as it passed them by certainly made the quietness between them less stuffy and awkward.

As soon as Mireille caught a glimpse of the waves glittering under the sun she couldn’t help but smile, her toes already begging to tread through sand – though she wouldn’t dare take her shoes off and folly in the sand around Dogma for fear of looking preposterous.

“It’s beautiful out here isn’t it?” She couldn’t help but say, only managing to coax a small ‘yes’ out of Dogma before he walked along the shore, taking in lungful’s of sea-salt air. Meanwhile Mireille was watching the waves, and the rock edges around the cove like miniature little cliffs, and then Dogma…

“You know…something about being here with you feels awfully familiar.” She suddenly spoke, only a second later realising how odd that must’ve sounded.

“Hm? It does?”

“Well…yes, does that sound strange?” She felt a fool, was she the only one getting this odd sense of Deja-vu?

“Well, promnesia is a common occurrence, I suppose it’s not that strange.”

“In fact, even our conversation at Gardenia’s restaurant…it all feels so…”

Sugared almonds. Waves Crashing. Sugared almonds. Dogma’s robes. Sugared almonds.

“Familiar...”

Saxon. Dead. Russell. Push.

“Mireille?” Dogma's expression soon laced with concern as Mireille's eyes glazed over.

...

White noise. Nothing but white noise. Then only the voice in her head: Saxon. Dead. Russell. Push.

“Mireille!?”

Is this a dream? Or was that a nightmare? Suddenly Mireille felt her limbs grow heavy. Her vision turned to darkness and she felt herself falling.

_‘I don’t know what’s real anymore.’_

_‘Am I a murderer?’_

Sugared almonds. Saxon. Dead. Russell. Push.

“Mireille!!!!”

Dogma. Reaper.

Mieielle.

Push.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
